


The Break-Up of '94

by deadlydecember1214



Series: The Losers Of ‘89 Were Here [6]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, KING Stephen - Works
Genre: College, High School, M/M, Make-up, Reddie, break-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydecember1214/pseuds/deadlydecember1214
Summary: Was it his fault? Was it Richie’s? So much had been screamed and yelled that Eddie couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment everything went too far, even now playing it all back after Richie had left… All Eddie knew now was that he and Richie were really over and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.





	The Break-Up of '94

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve read my ‘Work Days Are Long Without You’ fic... Here’s the Break-Up of ‘94 ya’ll. If you haven’t read ‘Work Days Are Long Without You’… you should, lol.

Was it his fault?

Was it Richie’s?

So much had been screamed and yelled that Eddie couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment everything went too far, even now playing it all back after Richie had left… 

All Eddie knew now was that he and Richie were really over and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. His lungs clenched painfully in his chest and he heard every inhale and exhale whistle out from his restricted windpipe. He was having an asthma attack. He was going to die. He was really going to die. Tears prickled his eyes and he clutched the sheets he was laying on, trying to focus.

Flipping frantically to his side, Eddie brought his knees up to his chest and tried to slow his breaths. 

_You’re not dying, dumbass. You’re not even having an asthma attack. Your asthma was bullshit, remember? You’ve known that since you were 13-years-old. No, you’re having a panic attack because— because..._

_Because Richie didn’t know if he wanted you anymore._

That thought did not help. In fact, it made Eddie lose track of any progress he had made in calming himself. He gasped and a sharp pain zipped through his chest, making him squeeze his eyes shut. His hands came up to grasp the side of his head, which was beginning to pound from the lack of oxygen. Maybe he really was going to die...

Jolting up, Eddie catapulted from his bed, away from his pillows that still smelled so strongly of nicotine and cheap cologne. Once he was done dying, he would have to scrub down every surface in his bedroom that Richie had every touched and wash every sheet, pillowcase, and comforter they’d ever shared.

With trembling, frantic fingers, Eddie wrenched open the bottom drawer of his desk. He pushed aside discarded scraps of paper and stationary supplies, searching for his old inhaler that he had managed to go without for the last four years. 

He couldn’t find it and remembered with a sudden twist of nausea that _Richie_ had persuaded him to toss it off the fucking Kissing Bridge as a stupid New Years Resolution back in Sophomore year. So fucking dumb, he realized only now that he was beginning to get tunnel vision.

With no other option, Eddie scrambled to his door and managed to throw himself down the stairs to the living room. 

His mother sat in her usual armchair, knitting in her hands and eyes trained on the television behind thick glasses. She looked up from whatever reality show she was watching as Eddie crashed into the room, gripping the door frame and wheezing. In an instant, she was on her feet and rushing toward him.

“Eddie?!” Sonia gasped, desperately. “What’s wrong?! Are you having an asthma attack?!”

 _No, you fucking know that I’m not because you know, just like I do, that that was bullshit,_ Eddie thought but nodded anyway, not able to catch his breath enough to find words for her. 

Her hand flew to her mouth and her other clutched his shoulder painfully as she dragged him into the kitchen. Throwing open a cabinet, she took out an untouched inhaler and tore the cap off.

Sonia shoved the aspirator toward her son’s lips and Eddie took it without any resistance. He pressed down on the trigger and greedily inhaled the medicinal water. Logically, he still knew that the inhaler was just a placebo, that it was doing shit all to actually help him, and yet he still felt his lungs begin to expand. 

His mother reached out and made him take another dose.

Pulling the inhaler away, Eddie practically collapsed against the counter and dropped his head into his hands. His whole body shook like a leaf as he focused on leveling his breath. Fisting his hands in his hair, he bit down hard on his lip to try and keep the sobs crawling up his throat at bay. 

A hand rested against his back and he flinched away, moving back until he was out of his mother’s reach. 

Eddie didn’t want her comfort, not over Richie, not when he knew she’d just say that she’d told him so. She’d _fucking told him so many damn times_. 

He’d never listened, maybe he should have. 

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much now if he had…

“Eddie Bear, talk to me. What happened? It’s been so long since you’ve… recognized that you still need your inhaler.” Sonia asked, sounding as if she was genuinely concerned. Honestly, she might have been but Eddie could never really tell when it came to his mother.

He shook his head, eyes watering. He prayed she’d just think his teary state was due to his attack. He couldn’t talk to her and he didn’t want to. Even if he had, he didn’t have an answer for her. _He_ didn’t even fucking know what had happened…

* * *

**(An Hour Ago)**

_Eddie pulled Richie closer to him, playing absentmindedly with the hair at the nape of his boyfriend’s neck. That was where the messy curls were the softest, like feathers in Eddie’s fingers. Besides, he knew Richie was a sucker for having his hair played with…or pulled under different circumstances._

_But they were not currently under those different circumstances. No, they were just together._

_The room was filled with the soft lull of ‘The Winner Takes It All’ by ABBA, just because it was on one of Eddie’s favorite albums and not because he was really in the mood for it. Later, he would find that ironic, but at the time everything had felt so normal._

_Being with Richie after school, the other boy in his bed with his eyes closed, looking carefree and content like always, long fingers tracing patterns across Eddie’s chest and torso over the fabric of his soft yellow t-shirt. It had felt so natural._

_Richie shifted above him before sitting up, “Your mom home?”_

_“I doubt it,” Eddie answered, checking his watch. “She only just got off work, so we should have a half hour until she’s back.”_

_“Fuck yeah,” Richie grinned, moving to hover over Eddie. He quickly leaned down to peck the shorter boy’s lips before slipping off the bed. “I’m starving and I happen to know where Mrs. K keeps the good stuff. Want anything?”_

_Eddie rolled his eyes, sitting up on his elbows, “I’m good, Trashmouth.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before calling after his boyfriend, “Nothing with peanut butter! It is actually worse than kissing you right after you smoke!”_

_He heard a laugh out in the hall as a response._

_“Fucker,” Eddie muttered, sitting up fully. He spied Richie’s backpack on the floor, propped up against his bookshelf. “Hey, you got your Pre-Calc test back today, right? How’d you do? We_ ** _did_** _study all last Saturday!”_

_Only silence answered him and he shrugged, getting up and grabbing the bag. Setting it on his desk, he unzipped the largest pocket and rolled his eyes in endearment at the mess inside. It was likely one of the crumpled balls of paper actually was Richie’s test._

_He paused, brow creasing when he noticed a single envelope among the chaos that looked as if it had actually been handled with care._

_Eddie reached for it, pulling it from the bag without a single thought for the Pre-Calc test left. Raising the envelope to eye level, he read in bold letters that the post was from_ **_The University of California, Los Angeles_ ** _and clearly addressed to_ **_Richard Tozier_ ** _._

_When the fuck had Richie heard from UCLA? And why would he be packing away letters from them when they’d already agreed on going to NYU together? They’d been accepted together and they’d sent in their letters of intent._

_Heart racing, Eddie found where the letter had been previously opened and snatched out the paper from within. Nearly tearing it, he unfolded it and tried to read despite how his hands were suddenly shaking._

**_Dear Mr. Tozier,_ **

**_We are pleased to inform you what you have been accepted to join us here at UCLA in the coming fall! We encourage you to please send in your letter of intent as soon as possible as we only have so many spots on our campus for bright, young student such as yourself…_ **

_The letter droned on but Eddie could read no further, numbly taking a seat at his desk._

_Richie had applied to UCLA? And he hadn’t even told Eddie? But… But they were going to NYU together... weren’t they?_

_Eddie’s bedroom door slammed back open and Richie came crashing in with his usual grin in place. “Okay, so, I know you said no peanut butter but, baby, I found your mom’s Reese’s stash and Reese’s are better than sex, I swear, so I couldn’t just not— What the fuck happened to you?”_

_Eddie slowly looked up from the floor to meet Richie’s now perplexed eyes. He held up the letter that was still in his hand, “You applied to UCLA?”_

_Richie’s shoulders fell and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, about that—”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie cut him off, standing up. “And why would you apply at all? The plan is New York, Richie, remember? NYU with Bev, Bill, and Stan? And Ben and Mike are going to Columbia… I thought that’s what we all agreed on, what we all wanted…”_

_Richie remained silent, staring at his feet._

_Eddie tried again, “Rich, talk to me. I’m just confused. Why did you apply to a school in Los Angeles? And why didn’t you fucking tell me?”_

_Richie shrugged, “I don’t know.”_

_“Bullshit,” Eddie snapped, anger now building within him. “That’s bullshit and you know. So, fucking answer me.”_

_“I don’t know, Eddie! I just did it! So fucking what?” Richie snapped, obviously getting riled up as well._

_Eddie didn’t care, hammering on, “So, UCLA is over 2,300 miles away from New York, asshole! You know, the place where I’m going to be? Where you said you’d be, too? Ring any bells?”_

_“Yeah, it does actually since you never fucking shut up about it!” Richie said in a tone that was on the verge of yelling._

_Eddie flushed red, “Yeah, dumbass, because I’ve wanted to go to NYU since I was 14! You’ve never even mentioned UCLA to me! Not once! And why are you keeping this?” He waved the letter in the air, “You already sent in your letter of intent to NYU!”_

_Richie grew silent again, taking a step back and refusing once again to meet Eddie’s gaze._

_He felt like he was on fire and not the good burning feeling he was used to getting around Richie. No, this was a fire that made him shake and see everything in shades of red. Eddie spoke, dangerously low, “You didn’t send your letter, did you?”_

_There was a long pause before Richie finally shook his head._

_“But you told me—“ Eddie cut himself off, a sickening feeling twisting in his stomach._

_“Goddammit, Richie! So, not only have you been keeping things from me but you lied to my fucking face, too! What the hell is wrong with you?” Eddie yelled, throwing the stupid appearance letter at his boyfriend._

_Richie swatted it away, his rage seemingly reignited, “What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you, Eds? Because at least I didn’t try to trap you in some bullshit plan that you didn’t even know if you wanted a part of!”_

_Eddie choked, feeling as if he’d been socked in the stomach. When he finally spoke, his voice was aghast, “T-trap? You feel_ **_trapped_ ** _with me?”_

_His boyfriend sighed, running a hand down his face, “That’s not what I meant.”_

_“That’s what you said,” Eddie countered._

_“Dammit, Eddie—“_

_“So, what? You don’t want to go to NYU, you’ve made that abundantly clear! So, what about me?”_

_“What_ ** _about_** _you?” Richie sighed, sounding incredibly annoyed._

 _“Do—do you even want to be with me anymore? I wouldn’t want you to feel_ ** _trapped_** _or anything.” Eddie used Richie’s words right back against him, wanting to jab and cut like he’d been jabbed and cut._

_Richie gulped, “What you fuck are you talking about, Eds? You know that I...”_

_“That you love me? You’ve said it before, yeah, but that’s not what I asked,” Eddie’s voice shook a little and he sounded breathless. “Do you still want to be with me, Richie, or not?”_

_“Eddie, come on,” Richie practically pleaded, “I— I don’t know, okay? It just seems stupid to plan our whole futures around each other! We’re fucking 18, for shits sake!”_

_“And I’ve been in love with you since the sixth grade,” Eddie whispered, looking up at his bedroom light and hoping it would stop the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes. He raised his voice again, “I_ **_do_ ** _know_ **.** _I want to plan my future around you, Richie! And you— you don’t?!”_

 _Richie shrugged and suddenly Eddie wanted him to hurt. He wanted Richie to express_ **_some_ ** _kind of real emotion because Eddie was standing there feeling too raw and pained and Richie was acting like he didn’t feel a fucking thing._

_“You don’t know? After everything we’ve been through, after you just said you love me, after all the nights I have given you my time and shared my bed, after all the bullshit I have taken from you over the years, YOU DON’T KNOW?!” Eddie ended in a roar._

_“I FUCKING GUESS SO!” Richie screamed back, making his glasses go a bit askew on his nose._

_Eddie glared at him, hard, before speaking up once again, “Fine then, I’m done. I’m done with all of it, I’m done with us, and most of all I am done with_ **_you_ ** _. Get out.”_

_Richie froze and Eddie swore the boy stopped breathing for a moment as his face paled to the same complexion of a ghost. He began sputtering with wide eyes, “Eddie, wait, no, just— just, wait, okay? Please, baby, we can figure this out—“_

_“Nothing to figure out,” Eddie said, his voice emotionless as he shook his head. “This — you and me — we’re over, Richie. Get. Out.”_

* * *

So… was it his fault?

Was it Eddie’s?

Everything had been fine and then it just wasn’t.

Richie wanted to fix what had been broken but he didn’t know how. Would Eddie even want him to try? Shit, he’d never felt like more of a complete fuck-up than he did as he numbly wandered around the streets of Derry as the sun set in shades of pink on the horizon. 

It was getting dark and streetlights were flickering to life above his head and he had nowhere to go.

He hadn’t slept in his own bed in his own house since… Fuck, he didn’t even know when. Why would he ever need to sleep at home when Eddie’s window was always unlocked just for him?

He couldn’t even remember all the times he had slipped in only after seeing Mrs. K’s bedroom light shut off. 

His boyfriend had never seemed offset or even surprised to see him; most of the time, he seemed borderline relieved. Richie often found him sitting on his bed, in his favorite comfy shorts and over-sized t-shirts — most of which had been stolen from Richie — with a tired smile on his face, a book in his lap, and a gleam in his eyes. 

Richie would grin and say something stupid in greeting, usually something that made Eddie blush as he set his book aside — and _that_ only made Richie nearly go into cardiac arrest.

He was so cute when he blushed… 

Sometimes, they would do… more productive activities… but most of the time Eddie would just sink down on to his back and wave Richie over. Richie would follow his direction for once in his life and slip into his spot between Eddie and the wall. Eddie would throw an arm around him and tuck his chin into Richie’s messy hair. Richie would close his eyes and rest his head where he could heart his boyfriend’s fluttering heartbeat until it lulled him to sleep.

But, none of what happened _before_ mattered _now_. Richie was pretty fucking sure if he tried Eddie’s window at the moment, it’d be locked up tight. Maybe even nailed shut.

_I’m done._

Richie squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding in his chest.

_I’m done with all of it—_

He gulped, rolling his neck agitatedly.

— _I’m done with us—_

His throat seared as if he’d swallowed fire and he tried fruitlessly to clear it.

— _and most of all, I am done with_ ** _you._**

Richie’s chest ached like an open wound as Eddie’s words continued to echo through his brain.

_Get out._

_This — you and me — we’re over…_

**_Get. Out._ **

God fucking dammit, Richie didn’t even want to go to UCLA! 

Not really. He just wanted away from his mother and father and he just hadn’t been thinking when he’d applied and he _never_ thought he’d actually get in. That was really the only reason he hadn’t brought it up to Eddie, because why would he? It seemed pretty fucking pointless when he hadn’t thought he’d get in!

_Do you still want to be with me, Richie, or not?_

Eddie had sounded wounded and so scared. Richie was such a dick, he couldn’t even find the courage to tell Eddie that _of fucking course, he still wanted to be with him!_ No, instead he had said _he didn’t know_. 

Then, he’d only made matters worse by word vomiting just a few of his pent-up fears from the last few months onto Eddie’s loose, white socks. 

His mother and father were high school sweethearts. Once upon a time, they’d probably even loved each other enough for Maggie to give up whatever future she had to be the pretty little housewife, to let herself get knocked-up with a son she’d end up regretting. 

So, yeah, Eddie loved him _now_ but what about months from now, when they were in shiny, bright New York? Or after they got out of college and Eddie wanted to go after a real career and stop dragging around Richie’s dead weight and excessive emotional baggage? 

Richie had learned to bare his mother and father’s resentment of his existence; he didn’t think he’d survive Eddie’s. 

Who knew? 

Things were probably better this way, with him and Eddie going their separate ways now instead of later before they started to really not like each other anymore. This way perhaps they could eventually find a way to be friends again… Or at least not hate each other.

Aw, who the fuck was he kidding? From the hurt, anger, and betrayal in those gorgeous brown eyes with he’d told Richie to fuck off, Eddie Kaspbrak was already well on his way to hating the Trashmouth.

 _FUCK,_ why, why, why couldn’t he just fucking _talk_ to Eddie? Why was he so fucking terrified of just being… well, honest? 

Because when you spill your guts, they don’t go back in. That was why. 

You couldn’t unsay the dumb shit you’d yelled. You couldn’t unadmit the feelings you’d confessed. Once it was all out, filling the air with its toxicity that was it. There was no _just kidding, man_ or do-over. You couldn’t fucking take it back.

So, instead the asshole just kept cracking shit jokes, like nothing mattered, like nothing touched him, like nothing scared him… But it did. Actually, _everything_ did. Under the facade, Richie was scared beyond shitless and now he’d gone and fucked it up with the one person who ever made him feel even the slightest bit capable or brave.

Why did he say _he didn’t know_?

Balling his hands into fists, the tension in Richie’s shoulder loosened just a bit as he felt the blissfully distracting bite of his nails into his palms. It dulled the ache in his chest a bit.

Richie stopped short in the middle of the road.

Somehow, he’d wandered his way to Beverly’s Aunt Carol’s house. He saw Bevvie’s light was still on and slowly moved up the walk to the front door. Reaching it, he raised his hand and knocked with numb knuckles.

After a long moment, the door creaked open and light spilled out. 

Beverly stood there in her knee-length nightgown and pastel purple silk robe, bunny slippers on her pedicured feet. She rubbed her eyes, a pretty smile splitting across her face.

“Richie!”

It quickly faded, though, as she took in his anxious and disheveled appearance, “Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“I, uh,” He swallowed hard, “I need a place to stay for the night. Ya mind, Molly Ringwald?”

Bev’s smirked, playfully, “Eddie finally got tired of you?”

Richie’s stomach dropped at Bev’s harmless joke. Logically, he _knew_ that she didn’t know any better, that she wasn’t trying to hurt him. Still, his eyes started to water and he shoved his palms into them, throat burning again. 

Clearing his throat, he half-heartedly shrugged, “I guess, you could say that.”

Beverly looked perplexed as the silence stretched before them and Richie seemed to be searching for something more to say.

“He broke up with me.”

“Oh my God,” Bev gasped, eyes widening as a hand few to cover her mouth. 

Suddenly, she threw a hand out, grasping his wrist and tugging him into her arms. Instinctually, Richie’s hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and stooping to bury his face in her fiery locks. They held each other and rocked on Beverly’s porch for a long time before she slipped back to take up his hand.

Leading him back to her room, Bev sat Richie on the bed and pulled his bangs back from his forehead, tilting his chin up toward her and forcing him to meet her pale blue eyes. 

“Richie, what happened?” She asked, her melodious voice soft and delicate.

His vision blurred and he blinked rapidly, “I fucked up.”

Richie’s voice broke and Beverly watched, heartbreaking for him, as he seemed to crumble before her. His shoulders slumped and the nearly ever-present quirk of his lips was gone. There was no mischievous glint in his dark eyes, only pooling tears.

Sighing, she relented and pulled his head to her chest, patting his hair, “Start at the beginning and tell me everything…”

* * *

The Losers couldn’t take it anymore.

It’d been a whole eight days since Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak had broken up and their best friends were made to suffer almost as much as the two boys themselves. But it was on the eighth day that the Losers reached their limit. It was an interaction in World History that had been the last straw. 

Obviously, Richie and Eddie had to just deal with being in classes together. And they had, Eddie moving up to the front of any shared class as Richie slunk back into corners near the door. World History was one of these classes and one Bev and Mike both had as well.

Mrs. Maider had been droning on as usual about one of the World Wars when she’d stopped short, crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed sigh. Her beady eyes zoned in on the back of the classroom as she called back, “Mr. Tozier?”

Out of old habits that he _really_ needed to break now, Eddie spun in his seat and felt the air sweep from his lungs as he properly laid eyes on the boy he had loved — fuck it, still loved.

The first thing he noticed was how tired the bespectacled boy looked. Shadows like bruises gathered under his eyes and his skin looked paler than normal. Eddie’d always been the china doll between them because Richie was a fucking idiot who’d apparently never heard of skin cancer…

Eddie shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and realized that Richie must have fallen asleep. The impression of the folds in his hoodie sleeves was still red on his cheek and he looked a little bewildered as if Mrs. Maider’s call had startled him.

…He looked cute.

_No, he doesn’t. Stop it!_

“Mr. Tozier? Care to explain yourself?” She asked, shaking her head. “Honestly, why would you think it would be okay to catch-up on your beauty sleep in _my_ classroom. You need this content for any college history course.”

Richie’s startled expression settled out to a smooth blank look. Leaning back in his chair, lazily, he sighed, “Well, I guess it’s good thing I don’t really give a _fuck_ about college anymore, then, Mrs. M.”

Red splotches sprung up across the old woman’s face, “Excuse me, Mr. Tozier, you will not—“

“So, college, too, then?” 

Eddie had called back before he could even think. Rage burned in his chest, hot, coiling, and desperate to lash out. All heads turned to him, including Richie’s. His eyes were as wide as saucers for a second before his eyebrows knit together.

Eddie figured he’d already made a scene and so pushed on to clear up any of his ex-boyfriend’s confusion. “You know, just another thing to add to your ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about’ list?”

“Mr. Kaspbrak! I am absolutely appalled—“

“Oh, can it, Linda!” Richie snapped, jumping to his feet and slamming his hands down on his desk. He was clearly about to bite right back but was cut off by the teacher he’d only just told to shut up.

“THAT IS IT!” Mrs. Maider shrieked. “Out. Both of you! Now! You can go speak to Principal Pacer about your horrific conduct.”

Both boys glared daggers at one another breathing heavily for a long moment before Richie jerked back up to full attention and snatched up his backpack. He made for the door, flipping Mrs. Maider the bird as he shoved it open. A beat later, Eddie was up grabbing his things and cashing after the other boy.

They did not speak on the way to the office, they didn’t even look at each other.

* * *

 

They got detention. Not the worst, Eddie knew, but he was still not excited at the idea of having to explain to his mother. Then again, she’d probably cry tears of joy once she heard that the punishment was for yelling at Richie Tozier in class.

After school, as Eddie threw his textbooks into his locker, Mike stood beside him.

“Maybe, I don’t know, Eddie,” The born farmer boy sighed and leaning back against the closed locker next to his friend’s. “Maybe having detention with Richie will be a good thing?”

Eddie spun on him, looking horrified, “Please explain to me how that could ever be fucking true, Michael.”

“Because maybe you two will finally get your shit together and talk! If World History made anything plain to see, it was that you two still have _a lot_ to say to each other.” Mike argued, never one to jump to anger and yet so fed up with his friends’ behaviors.

“I don’t want to talk to him.” Eddie snapped, slamming his locker shut. “And I don’t even know what you’re talking about, I have _nothing_ else to say to him”

Mike snorted, “Three lies in one breath, Eddie. That’d be impressive even if you didn’t have breathing problems.”

“I’m not lying, Michael.” The short Senior glared off into nothingness before rolling his eyes and straightening, “I got to go. Detention.”

Just outside the double doors that Eddie passed on his way to Mrs. Maider’s classroom for his punishment, Richie stood with Beverly while sharing one last cigarette before he’d have to go back inside.

“What the _fuck_ was he even talking about?!” Richie burst out after taking a long drag. 

Beverly scuffed the toe of her untied work boot across the pavement and looked up to squint at her friend standing in the low, afternoon sun. Pushing her hair out of her face, she took the cigarette back, balancing it in her fingers without raising it to her lips yet.

“I think he was talking about you not, and I quote, ‘giving a fuck’,” She muttered, flicking off remaining ash. 

“Yeah, well, that’s bullshit,” Richie growled, shoving his fists into his hoodie pockets. “It’s bullshit and it’s unfair. He knows that I—“ The boy stopped short, eyes darting away.

Beverly inhaled the sweet smoke of nicotine, releasing it into the atmosphere as she filled in the blank, “That you care about him?” She sighed, cocking her head to the side, “I don’t think he does, actually. I think that Eddie genuinely thinks you don’t give a shit about him anymore.”

Richie’s head shot up and he glared at her, “Watch yourself, Marsh.”

“I’m just saying think about it, Rich,” The girl held up a hand, cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth as she rolled it between her teeth. Passing it back to her friend, she leaned back on the wall of the school. “If Ben and I fought, fought so bad that I got angry enough to say I wanted to end things, and then he just… let me? Well, I’d be inclined to think he must not have cared as much as I’d thought, too.”

“I _didn’t just let him_!” Richie said, defensively.

“Oh, really?” Beverly quirked an eyebrow. “And where was I when you actually tried to talk things through with him?”

“Fuck off, Marsh,” The boy hissed, taking a drag.

Beverly groaned and glanced at her watch. Standing up straight, she stepped up to Richie and took the cigarette right out of his mouth, stubbing it out on the sidewalk, “Yeah, yeah, keep it up and find a new place to sleep tonight. Now, get to detention, jackass.”

Eddie was already in his new normal seat in the front row when Richie arrived at Mrs. Maider’s class. The old bat was at her desk and sighed disappointedly when he came in and took his seat at the desk furthest from his ex.

“Mr. Tozier, you are late.”

“It’s five minutes.”

“Five minutes you can make up by coming in early tomorrow.”

Richie groaned and dropped his head on to his arms for a moment before nodding up at her, “Okay, whatever.”

“If you would just have good judgment, Mr. Tozier, then maybe you wouldn’t get yourself into these situations.” The World History teacher shook her head, woefully.

That familiar ache in his chest that’d been born in the moment Eddie had said it was over flared to life and Richie felt his throat tighten. Without his consent, his gaze flickered over to Eddie only to find the other boy watching him with a creased brow like he was waiting for Richie’s response.

Clearing his throat, Richie looked back down at his arms folded on his desk, “Think you might be barking up the wrong tree, Mrs. M. Good judgment isn’t really my thing.”

The teacher pinched her lips but said no more. 

They sat in complete silence as Mrs. M graded papers, glancing up at them every few minutes. It was like she thought they’d actually try to pull one over on her or something. Even Richie wasn’t that fucking masochistic.

He was, however, apparently just masochistic enough to let himself keep sneaking looks at Eddie. 

The boy was wearing jeans and a Mickey Mouse sweater two sizes too big for him that Richie knew full well he usually only wore to bed. His posture was rigid, awkward, and — Richie realized after a few lingering glances — defensive. What did he think Richie would try to throw blows now? Did he really think Richie would ever aim to hurt him? 

Never once did he turn around or glance over his shoulder, though. He clearly didn’t ache to look like Richie did.

It was disorienting, not having Eddie as his focal point anymore like someone had thrown him from a moving train without any map or north star to lead him home. He couldn’t count the times in the last eight days that something had happened and the very first thing he’d thought to do was find Eddie to tell him. 

 _You’re the first person I thought about going to._  

Richie had said that to Eddie once, over a year ago, right before they’d confessed to liking each other — back when they still hadn’t admitted to even themselves that _like_ had really been _love_. Their first kiss had been mere seconds after that because Richie had been unable to just say how he felt, the start of a bad habit maybe… For someone who used them so frequently, he really was shit at words.

He wondered if Eddie remembered that night, their beginning. If he thought about it as often as Richie had been lately, if he ached when he did, too.

About halfway through the hour, Mrs. Maider excused herself to run an errand in the library. She shuffled out, eyeing the boys suspiciously until the door finally closed behind her.

Richie slumped, dropping his chin onto his arms and casting his gaze back up to Eddie once again. 

“Stop fucking staring at me, or I swear to God—“ Eddie growled suddenly, twisting around in his seat and stopping short upon seeing Richie jump and open his own mouth to speak. Eddie did not allow him, “I can _feel_ it on the back of my neck. Cut it out.”

Eddie turned back to the front and Richie sat in stunned silence, considering his next move. Finally, he cleared his throat and called, calm and confidently, up to the other boy, “I don’t think I wanna cut it out. I happen to like staring at you. You’re just too damn—”

“ _Don’t._ ”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“Actually, I do, asshole. You were going to call me ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ or some other bullshit and I don’t want to hear it. Not today.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Stop it, I’m serious.”

“And then again the day after that and the one after that and the—“ 

“Goddammit, Richie!” Eddie exclaimed, slamming his hands down on his desk and clutching the edges with white knuckles. Richie could hear his breath quicken. “ _Why_ can’t you just stop?! Beep beep, asshole. Beep _fucking_ beep!”

When he got the last word out, Eddie took in a gasping breath and brought his hands up to drop his face into them. Richie’s heart clenched in his chest and he felt suddenly ashamed. He should just never open his Trashmouth again, it never helped him, it only screwed him over.

“Eds, I— I didn’t—“

“ _And now the nicknames, too?_ Are you _trying_ to make me miserable?! Is that what you want? Because mission accomplished, I’m miserable, congratulations! Now _please_ just stop fucking with me, okay?” Every other word was punctuated with a gasp as Richie felt tears burn behind his eyes.

He hadn’t been fucking with Eddie… he did want to tell him he was cute tomorrow and all the days after tomorrow. Fuck, he would settle for just wanted to talk to him again…

Eddie’s shoulders shook as he fumbled with his pocket. A second later he withdrew an inhaler and triggered it, his breathing calming after a second.

Richie watched, concern blossoming violently in the pit of his stomach. “Wh—why are you using that again?”

Eddie rubbing his forehead, looking at the floor. “Because I need it again.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just have since…“ _The break-up,_ it went unsaid.

“Oh,” Richie swallowed hard and sat up, leaning forward and nervously bouncing his knee. When Richie spoke, he himself could hear how gravelly his voice sounded, “I don’t want you to be miserable, by the way. I like it when” He paused and figured he had nothing to lose, Eddie already hated him, “I like it when you’re happy. I want you to be happy.”

Eddie looked back at him, his eyes an open book of distrust and reluctance. Finally, he looked at the ground and gripped a fist of dark locks along his hairline. He closed his eyes and Richie figured he would remain silent.

“I _was_ happy.” The whisper barely reached Richie’s ears and his heart stopped for a moment as Eddie sat up with a long sigh and looked at him with tired eyes. “Before. With you.”

Every instinct in Richie’s body wanted to find something dumb to say, wanted to crack a joke about how Eddie only missed how Richie could get him off or _something_ that wouldn’t mean anything. However, Richie’s heart only wanted Eddie and so he decided for once to speak from that.

“I was happy with you, too.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was.”

“So, why did you want to leave, then?”

Eddie’s eyes had yet to leave Richie’s since before and Richie felt the weight of his gaze like a pile of bricks on his chest. “I was freaked out and I fucked up.”

An eyebrow twitched downward and Eddie tilted his head to the side. “What were you afraid of? Was the idea of going to New York with me really that bad?”

“No, no! That’s not what I—“ Richie moaned and quickened the bouncing of his knee. “You weren’t what freaked me out, okay? More… the idea of you figuring out one day that I’m not worth it.”

“Worth what?”

“Anything, Eds. The effort, the time, the commitment, any of it. I’m not worth it.”

They both fell silent and Richie thought that was the real end of it. Now, Eddie knew his real reasons for everything. He would understand, realize Richie was right, and move on. He’d go to New York and he’d probably meet some other guy and it’d be great… and Richie would be okay because Eddie would be happy.

“You mean to tell me, _that’s_ why you applied to UCLA? Because you were too much of a sissy to just talk to me about being scared of me — what?— thinking you were worthless?!” Eddie stood up and stomped down the rows of desks until he was standing right in front of Richie. “ _I’ve never thought that!_ And, newsflash, I was scared, too, but I figured it would all be okay because it’d be you and me!”

“And now there’s no you and me,” Richie muttered darkly, gloomily flickering his gaze away.

“I really wish that were true right now,” Eddie admitted before shaking his head, “But I’m pretty sure we both know it’s not.”

“You were the one who said—“

“I know what I said, dipshit, but look at us!” Eddie gestured between them. “It wouldn’t be like this if there was nothing here anymore! And I know that no matter how much I want to hate you, I don’t. I _can’t_ because I still love you!”

In the year they’d been dating, Richie could count on his two hands how many times Eddie had actually said those three little words. They were harder for Eddie to spit out and Richie realized that early on. He’d never minded all that much; he didn’t need to be told when he was always shown. 

Still hearing it in that moment, Richie could practically feel himself and Eddie clicking back together, like two puzzle pieces that had been knocked under the sofa and were now being reassembled.

Richie was suddenly stuttering and word vomiting, the words cascading out before he could stop them, his guts spilling across the floor, “I still love you, too, and I want there to still be a you and me and if you still want, I’ll to go to New York with you. I’d want to go anywhere with you, even a stupid fucking ABBA concert.”

One side of Eddie’s lips rose into a half smile and he gave a watery chuckle, “ABBA is actually amazing — That’s not the point; the point is you are more important to me than New York so if you want UCLA—“

“I don’t,” Richie stood as well, moving until he and Eddie were barely inches apart. “I just want you.”

Slowly, like he was a little spellbound, Eddie nodded. There was a sweet quirk in his lips and glint of endearment in his eyes that made Richie’s chest contract in the good way he was used to feeling around Eddie.

They’d been slowly inching closer and closer with each word and Eddie’s nose brushed Richie’s as he mumbled the last syllable. Their breath mingled and chapped lips ghosted over one as soft as velvet.

“I’m all in,” Richie said as both he and Eddie’s eye fluttered shut and their lips finally, _finally_ connected. It was like taking a gulping lungful of air after breaking the surface. They seemed to fall into each other, sinking into the kiss and back into their rightful places in the cosmos which was wherever the other was.

Pulling away with ragged breath, Eddie pressed his forehead against Richie’s. “I am never breaking up with you again.”

“Well, thank fuck for that. Don’t know if I’d survive it twice, baby.”

“Richie?”

“Hmm?”

“I know I don’t tell you enough but I do love you.”

Richie’s eyes opened to Eddie’s, looking at him worriedly. He leaned down and kissed the other boy once again, hard and quick and beautifully. “You don’t have to. I know and I love you, too, Eddie Spaghetti.”

 

 


End file.
